Translation: "I'm entitled, bitch!"

This lovely offering was left on a table at the Hershey, PA Panera this afternoon by a Mombie and her 2 toddlers (let's call them Sneauxphlayke and Crotchdroplet). You cannot tell from the picture, but the table is littered with dry and not-so-dry crumbs. For those unfamiliar with Panera, it is like a deli in the sense that you order your stuff at a counter, where it is prepared and given to you, and that is the end of the service. You pick out your table or armchair, take your order there, and clean it up afterward. All very nice and delicious, and sometimes if you happen to be sitting around enjoying your drink but your plates are empty, a friendly worker will offer to take them for you. But the etiquette is that you don't just leave your dirty plates and trash on the table and leave.
But mombies are special, because theirs is the hardest and most important job on earth. Abiding by etiquette is for lesser beings, who are preoccupied with petty concerns. I learned this by listening to Mombie here in Panera.*


Mombie stands up to leave, and collects her brats and their luggage. Panera worker sees a vacant table with dirty stuff on it, and politely asks, "Ma'am, is this yours?"


Mombie loses her shit. "Does it not LOOK to you like I have my hands full?! I am the MOM here. That is MY job.  YOUR job is to clean up. How am I supposed to do your job AND mine?!"


Nice Worker: "Excuse me, ma'am, I just wanted to see if this table was vacant."


Mombie: "Whatever!" [Stalks out of the restaurant.]


Jane: Chokes on her coffee.


*Also, I learned that being a MOM makes you, like, way more mature.

Playing Nice with the Childed In-Laws, Part I

On Saturday my husband and I went to the Design/Sales office of the conglomerate in which the apartment his father will be buying/we will be renting is located. My SIL was* the agents' contact person for the deal, so I expected her to join us. What I did not expect was her loud, obnoxious husband and precious 18-mo-old Sneauxphlayche to join us, but they did.  I was not thrilled. But you know how sometimes you think you have a shitty situation, but something happens to let you know that you narrowly missed an even shittier situation? Well, that happened when the younger agent spotted Sneauxphlayche and cooed, "Ohhh! If I'd have known you'd be here, I would've brought my little one!" One Precious Princess was enough.** (No surprise there.)

As we picked out the colors and patterns for the fixtures and furnishings, I did my best to ignore PP's singing to herself, touching everything, scribbling on the table (hey, if the agents can't tell her to stop, I'm not going to), babbling, and general running around and talking to herself (loudly of course)...while her parents alternately ignored and indulged her. I hit my limit when we (agent Mommy, SIL, BIL, PP, and their poorly trained Jack Russell, and my husband and I) were visiting our unfurnished, unfinished apartment. PP and Jack, with Enrique's encouragement, were running around like idiots, with much squealing, shouting, and barking. Agent Mommy chose that moment to say directly to me, "You will have to be careful with the baby when the countertops are installed" (because we chose the sharp-edged, standard style, rather than the beveled edges, which cost $470 more). I laughed in her face, and said, "No, we won't." All the chaos suddenly stopped. I became the center of the adults' attention, and PP hid behind her mombie's leg, sucking her thumb and staring at me.

"Oh, I did have one question," I said to Agent Mommy. "By when do we need to drop off our ceiling lamp if we want your guys to install that instead of the standard chandelier?"

Chaos gradually resumed. A couple minutes later, SIL invited us to lunch. I accepted very sweetly. Fortunately for me, PP fell asleep on the ride there. The adults actually behaved like adults at lunch, except for SIL asking Alejandro to save some of his lunch (which we paid for) for little Sneauxphlayche.***



*She isn't any more, because I explained very firmly and clearly to the agents that although Alejandro's father would be purchasing the unit, Alejandro and I would be the actual occupants.
**More than enough, really.
***New Rule: You make it, you feed it.

Shit my dad says (nothing to do with the show or the book)

I've never watched the show or read the book. This is just a collection of some of the actual shit that has come out of my dad's mouth.

• "Obviously [Sarah Palin] is smarter than you, because she got elected governor and you didn't."
• "It's not cold; you just like to complain." (When it is 33 degrees and snowing.) 
• "It's not hot; you just want to spend money  on air conditioning." (When it is 85 degrees.)
• "Maybe you don't need that...that costs money. You know what else money buys? Oil." (When my brother said that he would like, not that he planned, to buy a 2TB external hard drive, because I was browsing for them online and showing him the ones I was considering.  Oil got thrown in there because my brother rents a house from my dad which has an oil furnace, and my dad had to pay for the most recent delivery of oil because my brother is out of work. It's not like he has money for oil and is spending it somewhere else, thus leaving my dad stuck with the oil bill. He doesn't have money. And he wasn't spending it, or planning to spend it.) 
• "Sheetz is for rich people." (He hates going out to eat, even if it involves stopping at the gas station for a bagel.) 
• "He was just trying to motivate you." (His spin on my former adviser's verbal abuse.) 
• "You take too long to shower...Washing your hair has nothing to do with it, it takes me 2 minutes and I wash my hair, too." (He is mostly bald. I have hair past my shoulder blades.)